


Curse

by GilliganGoodfellow



Series: Jaskier’s Monster [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, But he also loves Geralt, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I managed to forget to tag characters. Well done me., Jaskier is a not very subtle Geralt/Triss shipper, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, episode 3 tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: Geralt has always been there for Jaskier.After the Striga fight, Jaskier is there for Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Triss Merigold
Series: Jaskier’s Monster [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606360
Comments: 44
Kudos: 773
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	1. Graduation

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the kind reaction, kudos and comments to this series so far <3 <3 <3
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a shift. To quote Jaskier, "Act 2 begins!"

She was a child.

* * *

The yellow disk spins back out of existence, and Geralt is pretty sure that it takes a part of his stomach with it. He doubles over, alternating between coughing and swallowing back bile.

“First portal?” Triss asks, calmly.

Geralt looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

She nods, indicating the city across the river from them. “Oxenfurt. As promised, and on time.”

“Thank you.” Geralt mutters, already making his way to the bridge.

Triss fiddles with the edge of her long black hair as she walks. “And as soon as your business here is concluded, I shall be porting you straight back to Temeria and to your sick bed.”

“I do not need to be mother henned by a witch.”

“Sorceress.” She crosses her arms. “And my magic is the only reason you’re standing right now, Witcher.”

Geralt continues walking. 

“Why Oxenfurt?” Triss asks.

Geralt grits his teeth as he aggravates one of his wounds. Then he hears Triss whisper under her breath, and the pain fades. 

Nodding his thanks, he carries on, crossing the bridge and making his way through the busy streets. Some stare as he passes, others cross the street to avoid him.

“Such a lonely life.” Triss says, solemnly. “I’m sorry, Geralt. The world should be kinder.”

“If the world was kind, it wouldn’t need Witchers.” Geralt says.

They stop at a large pavilion, which is full of revelry. At the end of the busy clearing is a stage.

And there he is, stood in a line with five other students. 

The girl next to him whispers in his ear, and he laughs, before whispering back.

Geralt smiles. Jaskier looks happy. Genuinely, truly happy. 

The line steps forward, and each student is handed a certificate, one by one. 

Jaskier’s certificate is tied, Geralt notices, with a blue ribbon.

“Graduated with honours.” The Witcher says to himself.

Triss looks across the clearing. “A friend of yours?”

Geralt hums, and makes his way through the crowd as the six students leave the stage. 

“Geralt? Geralt you made it.” Jaskier’s face falls into a worried expression as he notices the Witcher’s injuries. “You just about made it. What happened?”

“I’m fine.” Geralt lies through his teeth. “Well done.”

“Oh.” Jaskier holds out the folded certificate. “You’re investment, my dear Witcher.” He laughs.

Geralt takes the certificate, unfolding it gently.

Reading over Geralt’s arm, Triss nods. “The seven liberal arts.” She says, clearly impressed. “VERY well done.”

“Oh...thank you.”

Without breaking eye contact with the bard, Triss hits Geralt’s arm, and then clears her throat. 

“Triss, Jaskier. Jaskier, Triss Merigold.”

“Miss Merigold.” Jaskier says, kissing her hand. “You brighten Oxenfurt with your presence, dear maiden.”

Triss smiles. “Do you flirt with every woman you meet?”

“Only the beautiful ones.” 

“And not just women.” Geralt doesn’t look up from the certificate.

“How have you been, Geralt?” Jaskier says, with some force.

Geralt huffs. “Fought a striga.”

“A striga!”

Triss nods. “It’s…”

“A curse that turns a woman into a monster.” Jaskier says.

Geralt smiles, still reading the certificate.

Triss crosses her arms. “And which of the seven liberal arts covers monsters?”

“This isn’t my only school.” Jaskier turns back to Geralt. “Did you save her?”

Geralt doesn’t respond.

Realising that a quick change of subject might be needed, Triss looks around the pavilion. “Well, the Academy certainly puts the Aretuza Graduation to shame.”

“Aretuza?” Jaskier says. “You’re a Sorceress? An actual magic wielding sorceress?”

“Yes.”

Jaskier beckons Triss to follow him, before gently turning her to face the stage. 

“Do you see the overdressed ghoul at the end of the stage”

Triss nods. “Blue hat?”

“Valdo Marx.” Jaskier says, holding up a gold coin in Triss’s periphery vision. “Classroom bully by profession, and a thorn in my side that I would very much like to see turned into a toad.”

“Bit extreme.”

“Or the lady’s prerogative.”

Triss looks at Jaskier, and nods. “Araden marsil.”

Back on the stage, Valdo starts itching in an VERY uncomfortable area, and runs into the wings.

Both Jaskier and Triss start laughing, already looking to the apparently forgotten Geralt like they have been friends for years rather than seconds. 

Jaskier holds out the coin, but Triss shakes her head. “A graduation present.”

“Thank you.” He turns to the Witcher. “So, Geralt. Will you be staying to help celebrate, or is this a quick visit on your way to the morgue?”

“I’m not dying, Jaskier.”

“Are you sure?” Jaskier looks the Witcher up and down.

“His wounds are severe, but healing.” Triss says. “He won’t be accepting contracts for a while, BUT a night of fun relaxation might be a good thing.” She looks at Jaskier “How are you planning to celebrate?”

“Tavern?” Jaskier looks from Triss to Geralt, and then back again. “The Three Bells gives discounts to graduates today.”

Triss nods. “Then let’s go.”

“Miss Merigold.” Jaskier says, offering an arm for Triss to wrap her own around. 

Geralt rolls his eyes, and follows them.

* * *

“Did you save her?”

Geralt doesn’t know the answer. 

  
  
  
  



	2. The Good Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was originally going to be two chapters, but the first was basically filler so enjoy this super long slog instead!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and for the kudos/comments. <3 <3 I'm loving writing this, and it's nice to see people enjoying reading it as well.

She had been innocent.

* * *

The tavern proves to be more of a cabaret, with music and performances on a stage that Jaskier gravitates towards with the sureness of the sun moving across the sky. One of the performers, a dark haired man around Jaskier’s age, greets him at the edge, kneeling down and sharing a quick conversation before returning to his troop. 

“Here should do.” Triss says, both hands immediately on Geralt’s arm as she guides him to sit in the far corner. Her instincts tell her that Geralt will want his back to the wall, to be able to look out into the room. Watch. 

“Any pain?”

Geralt looks at her, and then rolls his eyes. “Left leg had my weight on it too long.” 

“Well then stay seated.” Triss says, whispering under her breath and dulling the pain. Her hand lingers on Geralt’s arm, and he eventually turns to look at it.

She pulls it away, smiling her apology, but he simply nods. 

“The Toussaint Red.” Jaskier holds up the goblet, speaking as if introducing a nobleman to a banquet. He hands Triss the goblet, then looks back to Geralt. “They didn’t have any ‘hmmm’, so I chose house lager.” 

“Thanks.”

Jaskier makes eye contact with Geralt, looking from him to Triss and then back again, before smiling. “I have a few greetings to make. I will be right back.”

Triss sits at a right angle to the Witcher, studying her charge for signs of discomfort. Geralt, meanwhile, is watching as Jaskier starts walking backwards towards the stage while pointing at Triss and mouthing _TALK TO HER_ before giving Geralt two thumbs up and turning to return to his friends. 

Geralt narrows his eyes.

“Subtle, isn’t he?”

“I apologise for the idiot.”

“We were all his age once.” She taps the edge of her goblet against Geralt’s mug in a small toast, and then takes a sip. 

Geralt huffs.

“You know, we are here to celebrate.” Triss looks into the room, and then back again. “You are allowed to smile, Witcher.”

Would the Princess ever smile?

He gulps on the lager, tensing slightly as the mouthful trickles down his throat.

Triss sighs. “If I had known that Adda...”

“You did what you thought was best.” Geralt looks at the drink. “Even a sorceress can not see the future.”

“I know it must not feel like it right now, Geralt, but I DO believe that we did the right thing. It just needs time.”

Silence falls between them until Jaskier returns to the table.

As he sits down, Triss stands. “I’m going to ask about accommodation.”

Jaskier fidgets. “Well I can…”

“It’s fine.” She smiles, and walks away. 

Jaskier groans as he turns back to Geralt. “Honestly, you are impossible.”

“I’m not interested in the witch, Jaskier.”

“No, of course not. You normally follow a woman's every single instruction like a well trained poodle.”

“She’s my healer.”

“She is wonderful. And you are a lost cause. You know, I am TRYING to be your best friend here.” Jaskier sips his drink, then looks at Geralt. “What’s wrong? I thought rescuing a princess would put even YOU in a good mood.”

“I’m fine.” Geralt gulps on the drink. 

“Bollocks.”

Knowing Jaskier well enough to know that this would be a fight he couldn’t win, Geralt huffs. “Triss took me to see her, the day before yesterday.” He grits his teeth. “The Princess. Foltest named her Adda, after her mother.” 

“How was she?”

“She sat like an animal on the floor next to her chair, lashing out at anyone who walked too close. Even with the curse lifted, she was more monster than girl, screaming and trembling at the shadows.”

Jaskier falls quiet.

“She was terrified. And she was suffering because of me. Because I made a monster into a human.”

“She was always human.” Jaskier argues. “You lifted her curse.”

“Part of me thinks it would have been kinder to let her die.” Geralt shakes his head, and takes another gulp of the drink. Then he sighs. “Don’t let it ruin tonight. You’ve worked hard to be here.”

“Don’t try and change the subject…”

“JASKIER.” Geralt says, sternly. “You worked hard. And tonight is about you. And I’m proud of you.”

Jaskier smiles, blushing slightly as he looks down at his lap. After a moment to compose himself, he looks back up. “Well, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“No, you’d still be in a backwater tavern having bread thrown at you.” Geralt smirks, but his face softens when he sees Jaskier’s haunted expression. 

“I mean it, Geralt.” Jaskier gives him a small smile. “I wouldn’t be HERE if it wasn’t for you. Thank you.”

They are quiet for a moment.

“Right.” Jaskier smiles and claps his hands together. “Dice, or gwent?”

* * *

She had been cursed. 

* * *

Geralt lays in the bed of their rented room, eyes closed, listening as his breathing slows.

Hearing whispers, he cracks one eye open just in time to watch Triss and Jaskier climb out the window onto the roof of the inn, a bottle of wine and two goblets between them. There they sit, looking at the stars.

“You’re sure he’s asleep?”

“Yes.” Triss says.

Geralt smiles in his pretend sleep. So much for a sorceress being able to read minds. 

“So, you two seem to get along well.” Jaskier is saying, and Geralt can hear the wine being poured. “You picked up Gwent fast.”

“Don’t flatter.” She says. “I thought portals were complicated. Geralt is a surprisingly patient teacher.”

“He’s good at a lot of things. Teaching. Fighting. Brooding.”

Triss laughs.

Geralt listens. 

“He looked like he enjoyed tonight, in the end.” Jaskier has a smile in his voice. “It was nice to see.”

“He’s a good man.” Triss says. “He could have killed Princess Adda. Most would have. But he didn’t. He saved her, even though it nearly cost him his life.”

“How close did he come?”

“His heart had nearly stopped.” Geralt can hear a hitch in Triss’s voice. “I thought for a moment that it had.”

“But then you saved him.” Jaskier smiles. “And now, if you think about it, all the lives he will save tomorrow and the next, you are kind of saving as well.” Jaskier falls quiet, and Geralt imagines him sipping on the wine as he thinks. 

“Thank you. Just, thank you for not letting him die. I owe you more than you could know.”

Silence.

“Have you ever told him?” Triss asks.

“Told him what?”

“That you love him.”

Geralt opens his eyes, looking at the ceiling.

“No.” Jaskier sighs. “I know he can’t love me back. Not in the same way. I am doomed to live a life in the silent shadow of unrequited adoration. But it’s not Geralt’s fault. And one day he will find someone who makes HIM happy, and then I will have two happy friends. That will be enough.” A pause. “I like to think that whoever she is, we will be friends.”

Jaskier falls silent for a moment.

“I found out why he was upset earlier.” He turns to face Triss. “He wonders if saving the princess was the right thing to do.”

“She was cursed before she was born. She has been a monster her entire life.”

“But she’s free now.” Jaskier says. “Geralt broke the curse.”

“That’s what we hope.” Triss nods. “I believe that she will heal, in time. But the truth is that she will never be truly free. Geralt lifted the curse, but it’s not gone. She’s human now, but she will always remember being a striga. A monstrous freak.”

Jaskier doesn’t say anything. 

“And people around her will know. Even with rituals and amulets to keep the curse at bay, there is always a chance that she will become a monster again. The curse will linger for her entire life. And she will be feared because of that. Ostracised. She will be...”

“Like Geralt.”

Geralt closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath through his nose.

“He can empathise.”

“Witcher’s are not cursed.”

“Aren’t they?” Jaskier says. “Children whose fate is chosen by others. An innocent turned into a mutant.”

Geralt turns to look at Jaskier.

“He’s still human though. I wish people could see Geralt the way I see him.” Jaskier looks away, fingers tense around the goblet. “They see a Witcher, an emotionless thing. They never stop to see how kind he can be. His humour. His gentleness.” Jaskier shrugs. “I often think it’s a shame that Witchers can’t have children. Geralt would be an amazing father, you know? He’d be supportive but stern. He’d teach them all he knew. Read them bedtime stories.”

“Bedtime stories?”

“ _Otkell_ .” Jaskier says, raising the goblet above his head. “ _The Hero of Skellige_.” 

Geralt smiles. 

The bard lets out a long breath, and then physically turns so that he is sat cross legged, looking at Triss. “I know we just met today but...I’m drunk enough to be stupid enough so I’ll tell you...” Jaskier looks up at the stars. “I’ve got a curse of my own. Not a proper magic curse, not like a striga. Truth is I don’t know where it comes from, but it makes my mind attack me.”

“I’ve encountered it before, in others.” Triss says. “Ribleaf tea…”

“Can help. I know.” Jaskier chuckles. “A few years ago, not long after me and Geralt met, it made me really ill. I hid it for so long, because I was terrified. Terrified that Geralt would send me away if he found out. Others had in the past.

“Eventually though I couldn’t hide it anymore. I was too sick. And when Geralt realised, he took me to Kaer Morhen to heal.”

Triss smiles. 

“It wasn’t plain sailing, as they say. I had some bad days. I was struggling with training, and there was this chapter in a book about ghouls and I read it a hundred times, but I couldn’t concentrate enough to remember anything. If I was asked a question, I got the answer wrong. I felt so useless. Like here was yet another thing I was a failure at. It was the college all over again...the first time round.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I overheard a conversation between the Witchers. Lambert was arguing that Vesemir and Geralt were putting me under too much pressure too early, and Geralt agreed. ‘It’s not working.’ He said.” Jaskier looks down. “He sounded so disappointed. 

“So I went back to my room, and I decided that that was it. I would NEVER be good enough. So what was the point? I sat in my room, staring at the wall and I…I was never going to move again.”

Geralt sits up, listening intently.

“Jaskier?” Triss whispers, resting a hand on his arm.

The bard shakes his head, holding up a hand. “I don’t remember Geralt coming into the room, but he was just there next to me on the bed, and he said ‘take your boots off and lay down. You look tired’ but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t see a reason to.” Jaskier’s voice cracks, and he closes his eyes. “Geralt got up and went to this bookshelf in the corner of the room. When he came back he made me lay on my side. He pulled off my boots and covered me with the blanket. Then he sat on the bed, and opened a book.”

Triss doesn’t say anything, just listens intently.

“He said that I didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to. I just had to lay there and listen. Just listen. He started to read.” Jaskier wraps his arms around himself. “I’d never been read to before. I liked it. I just laid there with my eyes closed, and tried to imagine the story in my mind. And if I got too tired to do that, then I just listened to Geralt’s voice. It was nice. Comforting.” Jaskier sighs. “Whenever I was at my lowest, my darkest, Geralt and the other Witchers always found a way to help me to hold on. Give me good moments. Help me to heal.”

Geralt looks away.

“You know, the princess, Adda? Her life will be difficult” The bard shrugs. “Maybe she will have to fight and struggle and...and there will be people who let her down. Make her feel small. Sometimes deliberately.” Jaskier swallows, and his inhale is shaky. “She will have horrible days. BUT that doesn’t mean Geralt was wrong to save her. Because now she will also have days where she dances to music. Days where she rides her horse fast. Days when...days when people read to her. Or hold her while she cries. Comfort her. Teach her to smile. 

“She will sleep in a warm bed each night. Enjoy hot baths and sunny afternoons.” Jaskier looks at the sky. “She will be human. And maybe the curse will always be a part of her life. But things won’t ALWAYS be about the striga. Her life will be about the good days too. And...and you made that possible for her.” Jaskier turns to look right at Geralt. “You saved her. You saved her so that she can have her good days.”

Geralt holds his breath, laying dumbfounded in the bed as Jaskier climbs back into the room. He reaches forward to hug the Witcher, before remembering his injuries. Instead, he takes Geralt’s hand in both of his, and holds it against his own chest as he kneels beside the bed. 

“You lifted the curse.”

Geralt closes his eyes, his world collapsing down to a single focus as Jaskier’s finger draws gentle circles on the back of the Witcher’s hand. Then, without looking up, Jaskier lifts the hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the backs of the fingers before letting go. 

“Make life about the good days, not the bad. They are the reason for fighting. Do you remember telling me that?”

Geralt sighs, and then nods.

“I’m sorry for tricking you.” Jaskier lowers Geralt’s hand back onto the bed. “But I knew you would push me away if I tried to speak to you directly.” _I love you_. Jaskier mouths the words. 

Geralt doesn’t reply.

Behind Jaskier, Triss quietly makes her way to the door, intending to slip out of the room unnoticed.

“Wait.” Jaskier says, maintaining eye contact with Geralt _It’s okay_. 

Then he stands. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

“It’s as good as next door.”

“This is Oxenfurt in the early hours, dear heart.” Jaskier turns back to Geralt. “I’ll be back soon. And if you want to, we’ll talk. If you don’t, then just lay there and I’ll tell you stories. Okay.”

Geralt nods.

“Get Jaskier to fetch me if there is any pain.” Triss says. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Geralt replies, laying back in the bed as he listens to the door close. 

Laying there, he looks at the ceiling, and focuses on his heartbeat while waiting for Jaskier to return.

They had been cursed. 

Maybe they would always be cursed. 

But there were good days. 


End file.
